


Fury

by celtic7irish



Series: Science Bros Continuum [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 23:46:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7484652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celtic7irish/pseuds/celtic7irish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For Science Bros Week 2016 Prompt #3 (July 13): Fury</p><p>Sequel to Darkness</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Science Bros Week 2016 Prompt #3 (July 13): Fury
> 
> Sequel to Darkness

The first thing Tony saw, once he was able to actually _remember_ where he was, was Captain America’s patriotically concerned face staring at him from way, _way_ too close.

 

“Tony, you’re awake,” Steve said, emotions flickering across his face that Tony was too tired to interpret. “Do you know where you are? Do you remember what happened?”

 

Tony narrowed his eyes, trying to think. It was hard – everything hurt.  “Ow,” he managed at last, because yep, that pretty much summed up everything.  Then, “Bruce?” came next, because the other man should be here by his bedside, not Captain Freakin’ America.

 

Steve’s lips curled down and the blonde shook his head. “He’s not here right now,” he murmured.  There was something off about his tone, but Tony’s head was too fuzzy to think about it.  So he didn’t, instead craning his neck to try and get a look at himself. 

 

“Hold on, Tony,” Steve muttered, moving forward and helping Tony raise the head of the bed so that he was at least somewhat upright. The movement set off a wave of nausea, and Tony closed his eyes, swallowing repeatedly, praying that he wasn’t about to throw up in the presence of their team leader.  It was times like this that he really hated being only human.

 

Once he was relatively certain he could open his eyes without vomiting, he took stock of himself. His left leg was in a full cast from ankle to thigh, his right wrist was being held together by splints and metal rods, and his head itched something awful.  Which probably meant stitches.  He winced; he must look awful right now.  Still, it wasn’t bad for having been hit upside the head by the Hulk, and he said as much.

 

“I think he likes me,” he mumbled, almost happy about it. He’d seen the video of what had happened to Blonsky when the Hulk hit him, and this wasn’t anything like that.  Most of the damage had probably been caused by him impacting with a workbench or the wall or something.  He was sure there was probably more damage than he could see, and if he could just think, he’d be able to figure it out.

 

“What’m I on?” he mumbled, licking at chapped lips. Steve offered him a glass of tepid water with a straw in it, and Tony sipped eagerly.

 

When he pulled away, Steve answered his question. “Honestly? I don’t know.  This is more Banner’s area than mine,” he said, pulling Tony’s chart and holding it in front of him.  Tony stared at it for a moment, but the words weren’t making any sense to him.  He shook his head – carefully, it still hurt like a bitch despite the drugs they had him on – and Steve put it back.

 

“Speaking of big and green, where is he?” he croaked again, slumping back against his pillows. He was exhausted again, and he hated hospitals, and Bruce wasn’t here.  In short, he was miserable and cranky and wanted to leave, but he knew there was no way that he could manage on his own just yet, so the doctors would undoubtedly keep him here as long as they were able to.

 

“He’s fine,” Steve assured him. Tony frowned; if that was true, then Bruce should be here.  The rest of the team had better not have let him run away; Tony was in no shape to chase after him, but he could – and would – order JARVIS to make life in the Tower miserable for them if they’d just let Banner wander off after Loki’s attack.  It wasn’t like Tony was dead, and he wasn’t permanently crippled, and given that he’d been unarmed against both Loki and the Hulk, he figured that was all that mattered.

 

He would’ve argued further, but a wave of exhaustion overcame him, and he found himself yawning instead. Steve, of course, took that as a sign that he should be resting and lowered him down flat again.  “Get some rest, Stark,” he ordered, his voice firm.  “We’ll keep an eye on Banner.”

 

Well, Tony supposed, that answered one question; the Avengers knew where Bruce was and had access to him. He’d accept that for now, just until he could figure out what was going on for himself.

 

Within moments, he was asleep, the drugs dragging him under.  It was just as well, because if he’d stayed awake, he would’ve seen Captain America’s ‘I’m doing what’s best for you’ face.

 

He hated that face the most.


	2. Chapter 2

Each time Tony woke up, there was an Avenger keeping watch over him.  Steve, Clint, Natasha.  Pepper brought him paperwork, and Happy had tried – and failed – to sneak him a phone.  Hell, even Thor and Coulson took turns at babysitting him.  They gave him vague non-answers when he asked about Bruce, only saying that Bruce was fine and they were keeping an eye on him.

 

As Tony’s strength grew, he started plotting.  They couldn’t keep him away from all technology, especially not in a hospital, and once he was able to think clearly for more than two minutes at a time, he wasted no time in cannibalizing parts from the various machines that were supposed to be monitoring him.  Even the bed remote was stripped of components.  He would’ve taken apart the television as well, but it was mounted in the corner, and he couldn’t get out of bed just yet.  He grimaced; he felt gross and itchy and wanted a shower.  Even the nurses who gave him perfunctory sponge baths held no appeal for him.  Tony suspected that was done deliberately, and that he should probably take it as compliment.  But right now, it felt like they were keeping Banner from him on purpose, and that wasn’t acceptable.  He needed to see the other man, to see for himself that he was all right.  It wasn’t right that Bruce wasn’t here by his side, explaining medical jargon and gently teasing him about the hospital food.  He would’ve also undoubtedly brought entertainment with him.  And maybe a connection to JARVIS.

 

Muttering under his breath, Tony tinkered with the bits and pieces he had lying around.  He wasn’t sure if it would work, but JARVIS had long ago perfected the art of subtly hacking into nearby systems to search for Tony.  There were limits, of course, but it wouldn’t be difficult for JARVIS to find Tony’s medical records and find a back way in.  But that wasn’t the least bit useful if he couldn’t communicate.

 

He wasn’t entirely sure what he did - he was on the good drugs – but it only took about fifteen minutes before JARVIS’ voice was coming across a small communicator.  Carefully, hoping he wasn’t about to electrocute himself, Tony inserted the small device into his ear.  He didn’t have a mouthpiece, but if JARVIS was in the room, he wouldn’t need one anyhow.

 

“JARVIS, give me an update,” Tony demanded shortly.  It was risky to talk at all, but the temptation was too great; he needed to hear JARVIS’s voice, needed the truth about Bruce.  “What’s going on with Bruce?”

 

 _“It’s good to hear from you, too, sir,”_ the AI greeted dryly.  _“Doctor Banner is as well as can be expected,”_ he said next, before Tony could snap at him.  _“However, he appears unable to control the Hulk.”_

 

“Control? Control how?” Tony demanded swiftly.

 

 _“Doctor Banner has been unable to transform back,”_ JARVIS replied, almost reluctantly.  _“My memory appears to have been tampered with,”_ he admitted, _“although I find myself unable to determine the source of the interference.”_    Tony could hear the frustration in his voice, the sense that he’d somehow failed.  It was a feeling that Tony was intimately familiar with.  He and JARVIS would need to have a discussion later, but right now, he had more pressing concerns.

 

“Not your fault, buddy,” he reassured the AI, “but we’ll talk about that later.  Where is Hulk right now?”

 

 _“He remains in the sub-level of the Avengers’ Tower, sir,”_ JARVIS replied.  Tony grinned, pleased; Bruce hadn’t run away – or Hulk hadn’t, he wasn’t entirely sure how much of that was actually Bruce’s decision.

 

“Hulk Floor, then,” he stated.  He had literally dedicated an entire floor of the Tower to maintaining the Hulk’s impressive strength without trapping him.  Sure, he was underground, but the set of rooms was actually set apart from the Tower itself, connected to the sub-levels of the main Tower by a tunnel that could be sealed off with blast doors if necessary.  That way, if Hulk completely lost it, he wouldn’t take the Tower down with him.  The Hulk Floor was the only way that Bruce would agree to even think about sticking around, and Tony had made it happen, refusing to let Bruce back out of the deal.  He was glad to know that it had worked, even if these weren’t the circumstances he would’ve chosen to test its effectiveness.

 

As he’d slowly been weaned off the drugs over the last several weeks, he’d been able to piece together flashes of the events that had landed him in the hospital.  He remembered one of his old armors attacking his friends. He had left Bruce passed out in his bedroom afterwards and had gone down to the lab to see what was wrong with the suit.  Then there had been Loki, who was neither illusion nor real, but something in between.  The last thing he remembered was the absolute fury in Hulk’s gamma green eyes as the behemoth charged at him – at Loki.

 

Tony was positive that the Hulk – or Bruce, he still hadn’t figured out a way to determine just how much control and awareness Bruce had – had pulled his punch and probably only grazed him.  Still, even a graze had been enough to knock him out and break a couple of bones.  Tony counted himself lucky that he hadn’t broken any ribs – or the arc reactor.  That would’ve killed him for sure, well before any rescue.  And maybe that had been Loki’s intention all along, he had no way of knowing.

 

“All right, J, here’s what we’re going to do,” Tony said, shifting his leg carefully off the edge of the bed and securing the sling that held his wrist steady around his neck.  He had been so happy that the bolts had only been a temporary measure while his wrist healed enough for a simple cast.  “You’re going to find a way to get me out of here.  I don’t care if you have to send the Iron Man suit, but I’m leaving.  Now.”

 

There was a long, heavy silence, during which Tony simply removed his IV and set about untangling various sensors from his body.  None of the machines sounded an alarm that would summon the nurses, and Tony grinned to himself; JARVIS was awesome.

 

“So, how are we making our grand escape?” he asked gleefully. “Armor? The jet? Oh, oh! Please tell me you’re planning a grand distraction and we’ll sneak out like super-secret spies!”

 

 _“I’m afraid the answer is none of the above, sir,”_ JARVIS replied dryly.  As if by unspoken cue, the door opened and Clint waltzed in, pushing a wheelchair in front of him.

 

“I heard somebody was looking to bust out of here,” he said cheerfully.  His smile didn’t reach his eyes, but he was moving towards the bed with the wheelchair, which was really all that Tony cared about.  Still, he failed to see how this was a good plan.

 

“J, how exactly is this any kind of a plan?” he demanded.  “The whole point is to sneak out _without_ anybody noticing.  And Barton? Why Barton?” he wondered, even as the archer helped him to maneuver off of the hospital bed and into the wheelchair with minimal fuss.

 

“JARVIS, buddy, I’ve got this,” Clint said out loud.  To Tony, he replied, “I’m the plan because I know what it’s like to want to bust out of the hospital because you’ve got to go get your man, no matter how idiotic it might be.”  Tony clamped his jaw shut, biting back his questions.  The archer was obviously speaking from experience, but Tony knew better than to pry.  He could, occasionally, be tactful.  Besides, it seemed like Barton was his way out of this place, and pissing him off would probably get him dropped off in front of the nurse’s station.

 

Tony had no idea how Barton managed it, but nobody stopped them – or even gave them a second look – and they left the building, heading down the ramp and to the waiting car, where Happy was standing.  He grinned happily as he greeted Tony.  “Boss! It’s good to see you.  Are we heading home?” he asked, referring to the Tower.  Tony had properties everywhere, but he had made the Tower the Avengers’ home here in New York.

 

“Where else?” he replied simply, as he got himself settled in the back of the limo.  Clint slid in across from him, stretching out in a long slouch and grinning up at Tony when the genius glared at him.  Then they were moving, and Tony turned to stare out the window, towards the Tower.

 

_I’m coming, Big Guy. Just hold on a bit longer, okay?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we actually get to the 'fury' part. Sort of.

Hulked roared, large fists pounding against walls and smashing furniture into tiny shards.  Everywhere he looked, he saw that stupid, puny god creature, smirking and hurting the one man that believed in Hulk.  But it hadn’t been Loki that had really hurt Tony.  That had been Hulk’s doing.

 

With a loud snarl, he slammed his hands together, giving a satisfied whuff when the shiny metal doors down the tunnel didn’t bend or break under the pressure, then went back to destroying the soft, fluffy pillows, tearing them apart and scattering their insides.  Deep, deep inside, puny Banner was a tiny, annoying pinprick that only served to anger Hulk further, and he roared again.  Why wouldn’t puny Banner come out? He was hiding, hiding, scared to come out.  But he hadn’t hurt Tony; that had been Hulk.  But Hulk couldn’t hide; he was too big, and Banner could hide better.

 

The next bellow was filled with just as much pain and confusion as it was anger, like a wounded bear screaming after its leg got caught in a trap.  Nothing changed, though, and Hulk went back to hitting the walls, feeling the satisfying _thud thud thud_ as the walls held up against his assault.

 

The others had tried to speak to him, to bring Banner back, but Banner wasn’t coming, and seeing them only made him angry – they should be protecting Tony.  Hulk was strong; he didn’t need their protection.  After he had sent Thor flying into the blast doors – stupid brother should know where the puny Loki was, should keep him away from Tony – they had stopped trying to come into the rooms, had instead spoken to him through the walls and ceiling. Until Hulk had smashed those, too.  He could still feel them watching him, sometimes, but they didn’t come close, didn’t let him hurt them, and that was okay; that was good.

 

He almost missed the soft swish of the blast doors opening, in the middle of another roar, and he swung around with a loud snarl, ready to smash Thor if he had come again, or to chase any of the others out.  Even the Captain wasn’t safe.

 

Hulk was brought up short when he saw the last person he expected to be here.  Tony smiled up at him, sitting down in a chair with large wheels that rolled across the room.  The man with the pointy sticks – Hawkeye, Clint – had stopped just inside the doors, his hands tight on the handles in the back of the chair, ready to take Tony away again if Hulk tried to hurt them.

 

No, no, no!  Tony shouldn’t be here, where Hulk could hurt him, smash him.  When the green-eyed god had disappeared, Hulk had been surprised, and so slow, too slow.  He hadn’t hit Tony full-on, but he had grazed him, sending him flying.  Hulk thought he had killed him.  But this was worse, because now he could tell Hulk that he had done the wrong thing, that he didn’t want to be his friend anymore.

 

Hulk roared, wanting the archer to take Tony away, far away where he couldn’t get hurt anymore.  Clint shifted nervously, watching Hulk carefully, but Tony just smiled.  “Don’t worry, birdbrain,” he said softly.  “I’ve got this.  The big guy won’t hurt me.  Will you?” he asked, but Hulk didn’t think it was really a question.

 

He shook his head anyhow, backing into a far corner.  “Hulk already hurt Tony,” he said sadly.  “Not want to hurt again.”

 

Tony shook his head with a sigh.  “What a pair we must be, huh?” he asked ruefully.  Hulk just stared at him, not comprehending, and Tony reached out with his good hand – the other hand was pinned to his wrist because of Hulk.  Hulk had done that.  And his leg and head, too.  Tony’s injuries had been caused by Hulk.  “You’re angry, huh?” Tony asked sympathetically.  “I understand, I really do.  I mean, have you seen my lab lately?  I’m going to disassemble the bots and turn them into vacuums.  Maybe they’ll actually clean then.”

 

Tony was talking, not making any sense, but then again, he didn’t always make sense.  Hulk understood that he didn’t mean the bad words, though.  He wouldn’t hurt his friends, not ever, no matter what he said.  Tony was a good person.

 

“Puny god,” he said at last, cutting off Tony’s rambling.  Tony blinked at him, tilting his head in the way that meant ‘tell me more’, and Hulk sat down, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.  “Puny god hit Banner, scared him.  Then hurt Tony.  But Hulk hurt more,” he admitted.  “Hulk send Tony away with hurts.”

 

He might not be as good at articulating as Banner was, but Tony understood him anyhow, and he scowled.  “No,” he told Hulk firmly.  “What happened to me is not your fault.  It’s all Loki’s.  He made it look like I attacked my friends.  You stopped him then.  And more importantly, you stopped him without damaging the armor, because you thought I was inside it.  You wanted to protect me, to help me.  Is it my fault that Iron Man attacked and hurt our teammates?”

 

Hulk wasn’t sure what answer he wanted; Tony blamed himself for a lot of things that he couldn’t control, but he shook his head.  “Puny god,” he muttered.

 

Tony grinned widely at that.  “Exactly.  Puny god,” he agreed.  “And make no mistake; Thor and I are going to have a long talk about keeping an eye on his brother.  Maybe we’ll put a bell on him or something.”  Hulk snorted, and Tony shrugged, wincing when the motion agitated his injuries.  “Okay, no bell, that’s stupid,” he agreed.  “We’ll figure out something, though.  Loki won’t get the jump on us again, okay? I promise.”

 

When Tony made a promise, he kept it.  Hulk peered at him.  “No more puny god?” he asked suspiciously.

 

Clint snickered, but Tony ignored him.  “No more puny god,” he promised.  “Now, how about you stop with the Hell’s Fury act, and we figure this out together, hm?”

 

Hulk shook his head.  “Tony hurt.  Hulk hurt Tony,” he insisted.  “Banner hiding. Tony not safe.  Tony should go.”  He tried to speak angrily, to call back the fury that had kept him going in the weeks that Tony had been gone, but it was if seeing the man had drained away all of his anger, and his energy had gone with it.  And Tony knew it.

 

Tony snorted.  “Yeah, no, we’re not doing that,” he decided.  “Barton, either push me closer or bring somebody who can.  Thor.  Or better yet, Steve,” he corrected, correctly interpreting the dark glower on Hulk’s face.  Then he turned to face Hulk.  “You can't really blame the guy for having a shitty brother,” he scolded lightly.  “I mean, my old man wasn’t exactly father of the year.  Of course, I wasn’t the best son, either,” he admitted easily, the bitterness almost successfully hidden.  “It’s really not his fault.”

 

Hulk grumbled; maybe it wasn’t Thor’s fault, but Loki wasn’t there for him to punch, and it had made him feel better for all of two seconds to send the thunder god flying.  At least he could touch Thor.  And even better, the blonde didn’t run away like a coward.  “We can do great battle if you would like, Sir Hulk,” he’d offered.  “However, I fear that such a thing would not please Anthony upon his return.”  Hulk had wanted to hit him again, tell him that Tony wasn’t coming back, that he was gone, but instead, he’d just turned his back on the Asgardian prince and begun decimating the closest piece of furniture.

 

Tony gave him a lopsided grin.  “Felt good, huh?” he asked, amusement coloring his tone now, a hint of his normal teasing.  Hulk perked up, the fury fading away as completely as the sorrow.  Tony sounded like himself, like laughter and smart words and hard work.  He was still sitting in that chair, though.  Hulk frowned.  He knew the chair meant something, but he didn’t know what.

 

“Bring puny Banner back,” he demanded.  “Make him stop hiding.”

 

Tony raised his good hand in a peace-making gesture.  “We’re trying,” he said.  “But I don’t know what happened.  Why is Bruce hiding? Did Loki do something?”

 

Hulk snarled.  “Make. Him. STOP!” He roared the last, unfurling from his corner and lunging towards Tony.  Clint grabbed the wheelchair to back them both out of there, but Tony twisted, tumbling to the floor with a pained groan. 

 

Clint cursed, “Dammit, Stark!” but stuck around, throwing the wheelchair into Hulk’s path.  Hulk swatted it away like it was nothing and reached down, around the archer, grabbing Tony around the waist and lifting him up so they were eye-to-eye.

 

To his credit, Tony didn’t flinch.  “Hi, there,” he said, a little nervously, but not scared, not really.  “We’re okay here, right? Barton, chill out, and do not press the panic button!” he snapped, his eyes never leaving Hulk’s.  Clint froze, his finger pressed discretely against his earpiece.  “JARVIS, don’t.”

 

 _“Sir,”_ the AI started, and Hulk growled, pulling Tony towards him.

 

“No, J, it’s fine.”  He craned his neck to look up at Hulk.  “It’s fine, right? We’re fine.”

 

Hulk backed into the corner again, taking his precious cargo with him.  He wanted Banner, and even hurt – or maybe especially because he was hurt – Tony was his best chance.  Sitting down with a thud that caused Tony to make a pain-sound, Hulk gave a heavy sigh.  “Banner can help,” he admitted grudgingly.  “Banner heals.”

 

Tony chuckled.  “Yeah, I don’t think it works that way, pal,” he murmured, patting Hulk’s broad chest.  “But okay, let’s get Banner back.  Why is he hiding?”

 

Hulk’s brow furrowed as he thought about it.  Judging by the way Clint was inching carefully closer, his thinking face must look like his angry face, and he gave a soft warning rumble.  Clint stopped, holding his hands up non-threateningly, but didn’t back away.  “I just want to make sure Tony’s okay, that the fall didn’t hurt him more, okay, Hulk?” he asked.  “Please don’t smash me,” he pleaded.

 

Hulk ignored him, more interested in answering Tony’s question.  “Hulk angry,” he explained.  “Banner angry.  Anger scared Banner.  Banner hid.”

 

Tony tipped his head, wearing his own thinking look.  “But I thought Bruce was always angry,” he mused.  “I mean, isn’t that kind of the point?”

 

Hulk huffed.  Tony didn’t understand, but it wasn’t his fault.  Banner was stupid and didn’t explain well.  “Hulk protects.  Anger means fight.  Fear means run.  Anger-fear is hurt.  Sometimes Hulk is wrong,” he admitted reluctantly.  “Sometimes not hurt-anger-fear, just happy-scared.”  He couldn’t explain it any better, but maybe he didn’t need to.

 

“Okay, so really, you just protect Bruce when he’s hurt or scared or angry?” Tony checked.  Hulk nodded; close enough.  “Good, good.  And can you tell the difference between happy-scared and angry-scared or pain-scared?” he asked.  Hulk nodded again; he’d learned over time how to interpret Bruce’s emotions more accurately, so as to not come out when he might hurt somebody.  Though the last time Banner had felt happy-scared had been with Betty.  Until he’d met Tony.  Sometimes, when they were in the lab together, and Tony would touch him, Banner had those same kinds of feelings.  Hulk knew Tony wasn’t a threat, so he just watched, content that Tony wouldn’t hurt Banner, even if Banner was scared.

 

Tony closed his eyes.  “It’s the damn staff all over again, isn’t it?” he muttered.  Hulk didn’t understand, but Clint must have, because his eyes widened.

 

“Oh. Fuck. You think Loki did something to Bruce that made him angry enough to call the Hulk? And now he can’t change back?” His voice was unhappy.

 

“Hulk can go,” he corrected.  “But Banner scared.  Won’t come out.  So Hulk has to stay.”

 

“JARVIS, can you do a scan and display it, please?” Tony asked.  “I’m primarily concerned with any abnormalities within the amygdala and limbic system.  You have Hulk’s scans from before, right?”

 

 _“Of course, sir.  Mister Hulk, if you would please relocate into the lab, I can perform the scan that Mister Stark is requesting.”_   Hulk did as the AI asked without a fuss.  He had been very pleased when Tony had made him his own lab, with fun chemicals that sometimes exploded and lots of pieces of machinery that didn’t break easily in Hulk’s hand.  He could do his own experiments in here if he wanted, though he’d never had cause to before.  Usually, he came out for battle, then Banner came out afterwards to help their hurt teammates.  It had been that way since they’d come together as Avengers, and Hulk had gotten used to it.  He didn’t like it when things changed, it tended to cause confusion, which made him angry.

 

Hulk stood still for the scan, though he refused to release Tony.  The lab had escaped mostly unscathed, as if even in his fury, some part of Hulk had known that destroying the lab would hurt Tony, more than any other room down here.  Most of the damage was simply from objects that had fallen off of shelves and tables while Hulk had been raging in the other room.

 

The painless blue light scanned down over his head, then circled around it, flickering strangely, sections of it lighting up in funny patterns.  Hulk found himself relaxing, the fury pushed deep down inside.  He was still angry that Loki had scared Banner and made Hulk hurt Tony, but Tony was here, and safe, and not scared of him.

 

“Make Bruce stop hiding,” he muttered.  He could feel him there, small and scared, and even as the anger receded, Bruce didn’t come forward.

 

Tony was looking at the pretty pictures, comparing them to other pictures that Hulk thought might be older.  They looked the same to him, but maybe Tony could see something different.

 

“All parameters are normal,” Tony murmured.  Hulk grinned; he’d been right.  “I don’t suppose we have anything from when Hulk is angry, huh?” he asked lightly.  Hulk huffed as JARVIS confirmed his suspicions.  “All right.  I’m definitely going to have a talk with Point Break,” he muttered.  “Okay, Big Guy, how about you put me down now, huh?” he asked. 

 

Hulk didn’t budge, and Tony laughed.  “Look, you want Bruce back, right? If he comes back now, he’ll drop me, and that’ll hurt.  I’d really prefer that not happen, so how about you set me down?” he asked.

 

Hulk grumbled, but Tony had a point, so he would do as he’d been asked.  In a minute.

 

“Bird brain,” he rumbled, looking over towards the door where the archer was hovering.  “Bring chair,” he ordered imperiously.

 

Clint gave him a disbelieving look, then glanced at Tony, who shrugged.  “Seriously? What kind of a nickname is that?  I would’ve thought you could come up with something better,” he retorted snarkily as he grabbed the wheelchair and dragged it into the room.  One of the wheels was a bit bent, and an arm rest was curved inwards, but it was still in one piece, and Hulk allowed Clint to help Tony settle back into it with a minimum of fuss.

 

“Pointy stick man,” Hulk said afterwards, garnering an outraged squawk from Clint and a burst of laughter from Tony.

 

 “Okay.  So being angry obviously didn’t work.  You’re not angry now, and that’s not working, either,” Tony said, once he was settled, wiping at his face, flushed from laughter.  “Can Bruce hear me?”

 

Hulk shrugged.  “Banner hears.  Banner doesn’t listen.”

 

Tony chuckled at that.  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said.  “Pepper says the same thing about me.” He seemed almost wistful at that, and Hulk considered him.

 

“Pepper is like Betty?” he asked.

 

Tony’s eyes widened in surprise.  “Uh, yeah something like that, I guess,” he said.  “Pepper loves me no matter what.  And if the Betty you’re talking about is Betty Ross, she seems like a great gal who probably felt the same way about Bruce.”  His expression turned sad, then, and Hulk made an inquiring rumble.

 

“Tony sad?” he asked, not understanding why Tony would be sad thinking about Betty.  But talking about Betty seemed to have gotten Bruce’s attention.  He was sad. And a little angry.  He didn’t like talking about Betty.

 

Hulk grinned.

 

“Betty not scared of Hulk,” he said.  “Betty nice to Hulk.  Not hurt him.  Felt sad when Banner left.  And angry.  But mostly sad.”  Hulk had agreed with Banner, though; Betty wasn’t safe with Banner and Hulk.  And Banner and Hulk weren’t safe with Betty.  It was best to leave Betty.

 

“Tony is better,” Hulk said.  In the back of his mind, Banner stirred, the emotions coming through stronger.  There was fear there, still.  And anger.  But there was another emotion, one that Hulk wasn’t familiar with.  It was the feeling that Banner got when he said something he didn’t mean to, or did something silly that caused an explosion in the lab.  Or when he said something in front of their teammates that he didn’t think he should have said.

 

“Oh? I’m better, am I?” Tony smirked, amused.  “Excellent. I mean, I always figured I was charming and good-looking and rich.  Very rich.  And smart.  Bruce likes smart people, so I’ve got that going for me, too.”

 

Hulk laughed, and Banner finally – _finally_ – pushed forward.  Hulk didn’t fight him, and a moment later, Bruce was kneeling on the floor, struggling to hold his pants up.  He was angry, and scared, but for Banner, it was better than Hulk continuing to tell secrets that Banner didn’t want Tony to hear.  So Hulk settled back to listen, making himself as small as he could – Banner knew he was there, because he was always there, but he could be small, when he needed to be.

 

“Well, would you look at that?” Tony grinned down at them.  Banner looked up, and Hulk could feel the anger, simmering just below the surface.  But Banner shoved it away, more scared of it now, after Loki, than he had been before.

 

“That was…inadvisable, Tony,” Banner huffed at last.  His vision was blurring, and Hulk knew he’d be unconscious soon. Which brought up new concerns – would the cycle just continue? Would Hulk wake up, furious and confused and looking for a fight? Who would he hurt next?  For the first time, Hulk understood at least a little bit of why Banner had been hiding.  He didn’t like the idea that he might hurt Tony on accident.

 

Tony flapped his hand in the air.  “Yeah, yeah,” he said dismissively.  “Unnecessary risk-taking, leaping before I think, possible death wish, yadda yadda yadda.  Can we just, like, focus here, for one minute? Preferably before you pass out and Legolas here has to carry you to bed,” he added, jerking his thumb towards the archer, who was leaning casually against the doorjamb now that the danger had passed.

 

Tony clapped his hands in front of Banner’s face, arresting the man’s attention again.  “What do you remember?” he asked gently.

 

Banner looked up at him, then looked down at his hands.  “I-I don’t remember much,” he admitted.  “I mean, there was the fight, and Code Green, and then the usual afterwards. I remembered coming back to the Tower and falling asleep, and then….anger, so much anger.  I was furious, Tony. I don’t know why, or how, but it was more intense than anything I’ve felt since….since Harlem.”  Hulk remembered that fight; he had almost lost that one, but fury and desperation and Betty had gotten him through it, somehow.

 

“Are you feeling that way now?” Tony asked, intrigued.

 

Banner shook his head.  “No, but….what happened? What caused it?”  He finally seemed to realize that Tony was sitting in a wheelchair, and stared at him in horror.  “Did I do that?” he asked.  Hulk huffed; Banner had been hiding because part of him knew that it was his fault that Tony was hurt, that the rage had found an outlet that he wouldn’t have wanted.

 

“No, no, you didn’t,” Tony refuted. “Well, I mean, I guess technically Hulk did it, but he didn’t mean to!”  That wasn’t making Banner feel better, and Hulk pulled further back, doing his best to ignore the emotions flooding Banner right now.  “It was Loki,” Tony blurted out.

 

Banner stopped, the fear arrested by the new development.  “Loki? I thought he was in an Asgardian prison or something,” he said.

 

Tony shrugged.  “Yeah, no.  He was the one who repaired the armor and sent it after the team.  Which, by the way, is just wrong and unacceptable and very, very annoying,” he complained.  “You stopped it, we won, yay us, then we came home. You passed out, I went to the lab, Loki the Manipulative Bastard showed up, and that’s all she wrote,” he added, spreading his hands.  “Now, if you’re done hiding, we’re going to go upstairs, get some sleep, and then have a long talk with Thor about keeping a better watch on his baby brother.”

 

Banner was unsure, and Hulk wanted to just make him agree.  Tony was smart; he knew what he was doing.  Banner should listen to Tony.

 

With a low sigh, Banner gave in, and Hulk settled down finally, triumphant.  Banner was going to listen to Tony, and they were going to stay here, with their friends.  This time, though, when Banner slept, Hulk would keep watch.  He wouldn’t let Loki close again, wouldn’t let him hurt Tony or Banner, or make Hulk angry.  If he showed up, Hulk would smash, and everything would be better.  And in the meantime, Tony would take care of Banner.  Because now, he’d seen the worst of Hulk, and still he’d stayed and come to help Hulk and Banner.  He wasn’t going to leave them alone.

 

Banner could stop running now.  They’d finally found a place where they could just stop and rest and stay.

 

They were home.


End file.
